


Two-Way Forward

by chortu



Series: Team Bond AU [2]
Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Team Bond, Gangbang, M/M, Misuse of Smelling Salts, Softer Gangbang Than You Might Expect, Team Dynamics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-18
Updated: 2019-11-18
Packaged: 2021-02-08 12:21:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,704
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21475939
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chortu/pseuds/chortu
Summary: Claude thinks about the kid decked in orange at the draft, then looks down at this long-legged declaration of challenge, and marvels a bit at the con.
Relationships: Claude Giroux/Nolan Patrick, Claude Giroux/Sean Couturier/Travis Sanheim, Nolan Patrick/Philadelphia Flyers Ensemble, Travis Konecny/Nolan Patrick
Series: Team Bond AU [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1544485
Comments: 6
Kudos: 181





	Two-Way Forward

**Author's Note:**

> Huge thanks to everyone who commented on the last team bond AU installment. It encouraged this one! If this is not your thing, no worries! There will be more. There will certainly be less intense ones than this. This actually might be the most intense one that will ever out. Actually, wait, no. Yeah, no. Theme song for this one is Glass Animals - Black Mambo. Enjoy!

Sometimes, Claude wishes there were leaderboards for the intangibles. The chem and stuff. Realistically, he understands how totally invasive that would be, but the media sometimes makes stats sheets out of that shit even though they really aren’t supposed to, and if they’re going to do it anyway, the Flyers may as well get some positive media attention for a change. 

They would have to be at least top three bonds, he reckons. No players put on waivers because of failure to meet the deadline, no bond withdrawal that he knows of from any trades, all healthy separations, and he knows that because he always follows up with them. Some captains don’t! He could certainly name a few.

That’s why he’s so flummoxed about Nolan. Just by feeling him out, Claude can tell he’s Flyers material through and through. A little goofy, wicked dry humor, sharp teeth.

He’s all severe angles to look at, and a bit standoffish if your name isn’t TK, but the way he acts around Claude sometimes makes him think it would be really easy to take Nolan apart. Maybe it’s that way he’s got, of looking up through his eyelashes so his frame seems much smaller than it really is. Sometimes he slaps at TK’s wandering hands, but sometimes he leans into them and looks Claude right in the eye as TK crows about feeling him up.

Nolan is never what Claude expects. Like, at the draft he’s the typical clean-cut rookie with gelled hair and button-down, but by the time pre-season rolls around his hair is curling into the nape of his neck and getting ever longer. He clearly prefers it that way. After he fights Krejci, he shakes it out and smiles at Claude on his way to the tunnel. He is fucking insane. 

He tastes wild, when Claude licks into his mouth in the showers after the game, and shakes in his arms when Claude tangles a fist in that damned hair. Claude thinks they might bond then, but Nolan eventually pulls away to roughhouse with Travis. Claude distracts himself a little, watching them. 

Another thing is that they tell Nolan right off the bat that there isn’t any chance of him being sent down, so Claude expects Nolan’s alternating coyness and brackishness to catalyze a reaction between them sooner rather than later. 

Now, five games into the season, Claude’s beginning to wonder if Nolan still remembers. Sure, their season started with four away games and sometimes rookies can be uncomfortable with bonding during a road trip. But their game today was an overwhelming win against the Capitals, and a home game at that, and Nolan’s eyes were trained on Claude the entire night when they went out to celebrate. But then Konecny suggested they watch some really stupid comedy, Nolan agreed, and they left together.

Claude’s not curious about it at all, he thinks, and is immediately caught following that thought in Travis’ direction.

“Getting desperate, G?” Sean asks, in French. Claude stops probing his line to TK, trying not to feel too obvious. Judging by Sean’s amused face, he’s been squarely figured out.

Claude can’t even deny it. It is pretty childish, and his only excuse is that he’s captain, and that he has a vested interest in making sure Nolan is enfolded into the team safely. He’s going to say so, but then Sanheim gives up a whimper from where he sits next to Sean. 

Now that Claude’s looking for it, Sanheim’s hands are flat on the table like he was told to keep them there, and Sean’s arm is flung out to his side, hand moving casually. Sanheim’s line reads as thick arousal and shivery anticipation. “I think Sanny’s feeling more desperate than me,” Claude says, in English for Sanheim’s benefit.

“Coots,” Sanny says then, voice so small. Sean leans in to whisper something to him, and he looks up at Claude. He takes a breath, but a flick of Sean’s wrist makes him take another, and another, before he finally gets out, “Will you- _ah_\- will you come back with us?”

Well, Claude thinks, at least one rookie is exactly where he wants them.

“Hey, G, you need to dismiss the media,” Wayne tells him after the next game, a solid win against the Panthers at home. “And come to the showers.”

There, in the steaming showers, Travis has Nolan laid out on the wide, padded bench they keep in there, and he’s fucking him all gentle. He’s smoothing his hands down Nolan’s slick ribs, and kissing him sweetly every couple grinds, and wetting him down with a showerhead. Like it’s a normal fucking thing to be doing with their unbonded rookie, with full knowledge that no one can leave now, not until this is done.

Travis finishes in Nolan, kisses each of his eyelids shut. Then he turns to Claude. “He wants it to be like this.”

Of course, Claude thinks. This is the emulsification of Nolan’s wanton and cold behavior both. This is the way Nolan would want to earn his spot, and how they would have to earn him. Claude was wrong; it was never going to be easy to take Nolan apart. _This_ is how it was going to be.

Claude thinks about the kid decked in orange at the draft, then looks down at this long-legged declaration of challenge, and marvels a bit at the con. 

“Someone get a bottle of water for Nolan,” Claude says aloud to the room, since most of the guys have already gathered, then to Travis, “who next?”

“Neuvy.”

Michal steps around some guys bearing a few water bottles. He lines them up at the foot of the bench, but for one, which he points in the direction of Nolan’s mouth. Nolan’s mouth falls open for the stream obediently enough. The sentiment of the team bond shifts into wary intrigue, and Claude wholeheartedly agrees. He’s certainly not volunteering to be the first to see what happens if he sticks his dick in there.

Michal doesn’t attempt to find out, just sets the water bottle down and makes space for himself between Nolan’s legs. Claude can’t help but look at Nolan’s hole, already open from where Travis spent. 

Sean puts a hand on Claude’s shoulder just as Nolan reaches out and guides Michal into himself. _Is this going to be okay?_

Claude doesn’t look away from Michal fucking Nolan. Nolan locks his ankles around the small of his back and urges him on. Somewhere in the showers, Voracek groans.

Is it going to be okay? Claude’s still trying to figure that out himself. This situation lays outside of his experience, and yet TK’s measured stance and calm line both tell him that there’s a bigger picture here. Whatever the plan, the goal is to find a spot for Nolan amongst their minds. He projects that objective to the room and feels the tension ease. Approval so dispensed, the guys in the showers begin to find each other with hands and mouths while they watch in wait.

Michal pumps his hips once, twice, and comes. Nolan sneaks a look at TK, and then to Michal he inches his chin up in invitation of a kiss. Claude begins to wonder if whiplash is a permanent state around Nolan.

“Jake,” Travis calls next. Someone hidden in the steam keens and the sound of slapping skin echoes loud.

Voracek slings one of Nolan’s legs over his shoulder to push in deep, and Claude feels the first hint of shifting pieces. Nolan makes a soft noise, like he can feel it too. Or maybe that’s the sharp fucking he’s getting from Jake. Claude steps forward to see where Jake’s cock is sinking into Nolan, puts a hand on Nolan’s flat stomach. He has to appreciate the size difference between Jake’s pumping hips and Nolan’s waist. 

This close, he can hear Nolan’s breath. It’s quick and shallow now. He’s hard and leaking. Claude runs a thumb over one of his nipples, and Nolan’s hand snaps out to grab his. Claude worries for a moment, but Nolan keeps his fingers right there, rubbing. He can take a hint.

When he lowers his mouth to the other shining nipple, Nolan thrashes. Jake bars Nolan’s hips to the bench with one forearm to finish his fucking. 

“Jesus, Jake, how come you never do me like that?” Scotty asks. The guys all laugh and cheer. After Jake’s taken the kiss Nolan offers, TK calls Radko up.

Radko takes pity on Nolan’s hole and fucks his tight thighs instead, legs held straight up. Claude smooths out the furrow between Nolan’s eyebrows and kisses him lazily. Weise is called up next.

Claude startles. Each player being called up, each line catching alight with Nolan’s sex. There’s an order, he realizes. He hadn’t thought anyone would know the structure of the Flyers bond as well as him, but Travis must be more observant than people give him credit for. Each new shifting piece is the one tied to the last. Nolan is following each cornerstone of the bond right to Claude with Travis’ help.

At last, he thinks he understands. To Nolan, it’s not necessarily the end that is most important. It’s the means.

The bond opens to Nolan instead of the other way around, with every succeeding player. Not everyone fucks Nolan. Manning makes Weal get up on the bench and suck Nolan’s dick, and fingers him until he comes over Nolan’s chest. Ivan rubs off on Nolan’s thigh and makes a show of it, to much acclaim.

Near the end, Ghost puts one knee on the bench and drills up into Nolan at an angle that Claude suspects is nailing his prostate.

“Does that feel good?” Claude asks. He’s taken to keeping the tip of a water bottle in Nolan’s mouth, in part to watch his mouth work and suckle on it.

“Oh, shit,” Nolan whispers around the tip. His body tries to squirm up the bench a bit, but Shayne keeps him pinned as he comes inside.

“Good job, Patty,” Shayne says, and brushes the hair out of his face. “You feeling 100?”

Nolan works his eyes open. “I’m feeling 200 right now, bud.” Even so, he squints at the curve in Shayne’s dick that got him just right, like a warning. His eyes slip closed again.

“Coots, you’re next,” Travis says. And Claude is last. Most of the showers are off now, so that the guys who wanted to get dressed could watch and keep dry. Some of the younger guys have a hand on themselves, and Leier might just be sitting in Wayne’s lap to warm his cock.

“I don’t know, TK,” Sean surmises, “he’s a bit out of it for my taste.”

Travis hums, stepping up to rub a hand down Nolan’s chest. Nolan’s eyes pop open. “What do you think, babe? You need some salts?” And he produces a couple packets of smelling salts, having gotten them from god only knows which trainer.

Travis apparently has running a train on Nolan down to a science, thinks Claude. Lube here, salts there. Nolan sits up so Travis can wave the packet under his nose. He breaths, jolts a bit, leans in, jolts again. After shaking his head, he hops down from the bench to stretch his legs out a bit.

“Jeez,” he moans. He looks a bit like a newborn colt, all bowlegged from getting dicked down. “I’m not going on my back again.”

“That’s better,” Sean says. “Can I have some, too?”

Travis rolls his eyes. “What have you done?” But he hits Sean with it anyhow.

“I scored a goal, you brat,” Sean says, and lines up against Nolan’s ass from behind. He’s got a thick head, uncut, and he holds Nolan open with it on every outstroke. If the smelling salts hadn’t woken Nolan up, Claude knows from experience, this would have. 

Before long, Nolan’s down to his elbows on the bench, letting Sean have his way. Most guys have been kind enough to get themselves most of the way before finishing in or on Nolan, to save him the sensitivity, but Sean’s been only half-hard most of the night, just watching. He repositions a couple of times during his turn. Bends his knees a bit to piston up into Nolan’s hole, then wraps his arms around Nolan’s chest so that Nolan goes limp in his arms, just moving back and forth on his cock. 

Claude can tell it’s ramping the mood of the whole room back up.

“You gonna finish tonight, Coots?” Someone chirps, but then they ask, “he still feel good?”

“Hell yeah, he does,” Sean answers, giving it to him steady now. His hand slaps at Nolan hip when he regrips it, and curls around his hipbone hard. Nolan’s releasing a steady stream of noise, little groans and curses. His dick hangs heavy between his legs, swinging a bit as he’s pulled back and forward like a ragdoll. 

Claude has the perfect angle to watch when Sean thrusts in one more time, presses deep for a few long seconds, and pulls out. A string of come drips down with his cock, there’s so much inside. Nolan’s hole gapes a little before he clenches down.

“Woah,” Wayne says, “what a draft pick, eh?”

Claude agrees. Adding rookies doesn’t usually light the bond up like this. Adding Nolan has. It feels like maybe the guys could have sex with each other just by thinking about it. Maybe some of them are.

Nolan’s line, having wound its way through every building block, is snuggled up next to Claude’s. Nolan himself snuggles up to Claude. In Claude’s mind, he feels like a keystone. In his arms, he feels slightly cold. 

“Let’s warm you up, yeah?” Claude says. Nolan nods into his chest.

When he sits on the bench, Nolan crawls up into his lap. Travis hands him the showerhead, water already the perfect temperature. Nolan tips his head back in the stream, leans into Claude so it can fall down his back. 

Nolan’s hand curls around Claude’s dick when he sprays down between them. After making sure Claude is fully hard again, Nolan sinks down onto him with a low sigh. 

Claude keeps one hand directing the showerhead and one hand carding through Nolan’s hair as Nolan’s hips grind down in a loose circle. He’s so wet and hot inside, and he feels so good around Claude’s cock. Claude’s used to rookies being tight fucks that need a little force to get in, so it’s new that Nolan’s body and mind both are easy and soft. Their bond solidifies in steady waves as Nolan screws himself. 

Claude continues washing Nolan’s chest and shoulders, keeping the warm water settled around him like a blanket. He lets his fingernails scratch lightly down Nolan’s arms, watches the goosebumps follow his fingertips. Lets Nolan bring him closer and closer to the edge.

He slings one of Nolan’s arms around his neck, then the other. He brings their chests together, lets the water fall down in and around their torsos, and brings his free hand between them to take hold of Nolan.

When they fall over the edge together, bodies trembling, the bond is nothing but heat, the rush of warmth catching some of their team up in orgasm, as well.

All in all, it takes the team ten minutes to clean the locker room. It takes TK fifteen to clean Nolan, but that’s because they insist upon doing it themselves. That gives Claude three minutes to do his subtle checkup on everyone, one minute to think about how they just did Nolan in that exact order but reverse, and one minute to silently thank every rookie he’s ever had that made his life easy right up to the minute he walked in those showers.

If the Flyers weren’t top three bonds before, he’s sure they are now. Surely no other rookie pulls this sort of stunt on their unwitting captain, right? Nolan walks out of the showers all clean, giggling into TK’s shoulder something about drains and come, and Claude thinks about the stats sheets that no one will ever see.

**Author's Note:**

> If you didn't read the last one, or came here specifically for the Flyers, this is an AU where teams have one big soul bond maintained by sex. Rookies are supposed to stay virgins (kind of) until the NHL so their first induction to a team goes smoothly and only involves the captain. If they don't, they have to have team sex to bring them into the bond, because nothing else is enough (usually).
> 
> Nolan "Natural Greece" Patrick only uses his mouth for inhaling ham and cheese sandwiches. This fic was partly inspired by a post that went around about the difference between draft Nolan and season Nolan, and how the Flyers got conned. Let me know what you think!


End file.
